


Only Fast Girls Wear Pants

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: Saints Row
Genre: (with shaundi), 50s au, Gun Violence, Unsafe driving, flagrant disregard for human life, pre femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: Shaundi has an lucky encounter at a bar after V.C ruins her evening.





	Only Fast Girls Wear Pants

**Author's Note:**

> 1) when I say fifties, I mean like...Happy Days meets Underbelly sort of 50s. Just an excuse for some poodle skirts and slang really.  
> 2) I wrote this with my boss in mind, but if your boss also uses female voice three, has black hair and a face scar feel free to imagine it as yours.

Truthfully, there might have been a better way of handling that.

 Raising her glass of Shandy to her lips, Shaundi took a sip. Too much lemonade and not enough beer, she thought, with a small sigh just behind her teeth. Seems like her evening was not showing any particular signs of improving.

 It had started out much better. She was out of the house, for one. Her parents had been fighting since before she was born and most of her life she’d been trying to find ways around being home while both of them were there, for her own sanity, mostly. Tonight she’d been hanging with a boy she’d met at a Church mixer who, she’d learned shortly after the meeting, dealt in Bennies.

 She’d waited for him at the party for far too long. It might have been a fun party otherwise, the music was okay and the drinks were passable. The company could have been better but honestly, she didn’t go to parties for the company. She went to drink for free.

 But this hadn’t even been a party worth drinking at. She didn’t know anyone there and all she really wanted was for Veteran Child to show up and take her out. She was certain she’d wasted her evening, but he did eventually show up. With another girl hanging off his arm; naturally. A beautiful blonde, she noted, dejectedly.

 But then dejection morphed into anger and she stalked across to him and he eyed her. Pastel blue skirt was thrown out in front of her by a petticoat and a pearl pin attached to her lapel.

 “Shaundi.” He’d said, dumbly. “I forgot I invited you.”

 By her own admission, maybe she shouldn’t have punched him. Not because he didn’t deserve punching but because if she’d accidentally cut her hand on one of his teeth who knows what the Hell kinda bacteria would have crawled up into her blood anyway?

 Not to mention Veteran Child was a dumb name anyway. His name was Grant, why didn’t people just call him fucking Grant? Why was he always walking around demanding people call him by his fake band name like a bastard? Angrily she drank half her glass in one go.

She’d stormed out into the night and found her way to here, on the other side of town. The bar was...Fine. Drinks were cheap enough, and there was no division as to where women could drink and where men could drink which suited her just fine. The other patrons seemed to be minding their own business just like she was minding hers.

 Behind her, she heard the door slam open and three voices talking jubilantly.

 “Did you see the look on his face when he thought Johnny was gonna pull the trigger?” Feminine; Spanish accent.

 “I still think you shoulda let me.” Another voice replied, masculine.

 “What, so we have to pay for someone to get rid of the body?” Masculine again, exasperated sounding.

 “We don’t have that kinda money yet.” The female voice agreed.

 “I thought things would be moving a little faster.”

 “Well, we only just started.” She said, “Come on. The Saints ruled this town once and we will again.”

 This made Shaundi turn around to look. She knew who the Third Street Saints were, everyone did. But she also thought they were dead and gone. She was greeted by a view of three people.

 A short man in a white suit with a paperboy style cap pressed down on his head, the top clipped up. Another man, Asian this time. His shirt was unbuttoned more than she thought appropriate for polite company, and purple. His pants were pinstriped, but she didn’t see a matching jacket anywhere. Stuck into his waistband on the left side was a handgun. The girl was between them, taller than Shaundi with broad shoulders. Her pants had a white and black houndstooth pattern, and her black shirt was complemented by a purple scarf around her neck.

 The three of them looked back at her and she blushed deep red, embarrassed to be caught staring.

 “You’ve heard of the Saints?” Hat asked hopefully.

 “Not recently, sorry.” She said, turning back around. She could almost hear him deflate and then a thump-thump of someone patting his shoulder. Then, a tap tap tap of feet and the girl appeared next to her.

 “Hey, Walter!” She called, and the bartender looked up at her.

 “What?”  He asked, but in a friendly sort of way. Far friendlier than he’d treated her.

 “Can I get three beers and another of whatever my new friend is drinking?”

 “Three beers, one shandy.” He said, laughing as she pulled a face Shaundi could only see out of the corner of her eye.

“Shandy?” She asked, “Why would you ruin a perfectly good beer like that?”  She complained but produced money from under her shirt anyway. Walter took the money and Shaundi watched as he pulled four beers, hers only half. The drinks came to her, and she turned away to give two of them to her friends. Shaundi wondered if making herself known to these people was wise.

 They were clearly engaged in things that weren’t legal and if she was seen with a gang then she could probably kiss her nice reputation goodbye. More than she already had, at least.

 “I’ve seen you hanging around with that asshole VC.” She said, her voice almost too sweet sounding for use swearing.  Shaundi gaped at her openly, noting for the first time, a smear of blood on the left side of her face and the upper part of her neck.

 Before she can stop herself she blurts out

 “My mother says only fast women wear pants.”

 “I am a fast woman.” She says, “I burned some serious rubber on my bike on the way in.”

 She suddenly felt awful; because she hadn’t meant it like that neither had her mother. God; she needed to get back to weed these Bennies were doing her something sour. Before she can correct herself one of the men she came in with speaks

 “Not like that; Boss. Like Easy.” Says hat.

 “She’s callin’ you a round heel.” The other says, deadpanning. She thought she might be about to get decked, but the girl shrugs.

 “Hah! She thinks I’m banging enough to be loose!”

 “That’s one way to take it.”

 “Come’on Johnny; life’s what you make of it.” She said, and when she smiles her teeth are white and a little crooked.  Shaundi let out a breath in relief that she was going to go another day without getting pounded.

 “Whatever man.” He replied, taking a sip of his drink. Shaundi glanced at the men, who were drinking and then back to the girl, whose drink was untouched at her hand.

“Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Shaundi said, embarrassed still.

 “Bennies, yeah?” She asked, brown eyes sharp and warm.

 “Yeah.” She said, “How can you tell?”

 “No control, sense of invincibility, widened pupils. You’re on the wind-down, I guess.”

 “You can tell all that?”

 “Well, that and knowing that you’re stepping out with that asshole VC. Bennies and weed are his mainstays.”

 “Oh.”

 “So tell me, Kitten, why’s a nice upper crust gal like you hanging around with VC?”

 “Drugs.” She said, shrugging, “Met him at a Church function. He seemed...Okay. I guess.”

 “I can’t imagine VC ever seeming nice. Were you gassed at the time?”

 “No. A little.”

 “The question you should be asking is why she’s on Saints soil, even if she’s wearing a cute headband.” One of the men, Not Johnny, said.

 “Pierce you’re no fun.” She said, “But he raises a good point. No one who’s friends with the Sons would be caught dead in a Saints bar.”

 “What are you? Writing a book?” Shaundi asked, feeling defensive suddenly. She hadn’t regarded the three Saints as a threat but if they thought she was spying then well. It’d be her cold meat party.

“She’s dodgin’ the question,” Johnny said, raising his eyebrows above his glasses. The girl moved her arm to finally sip her beer and Shaundi noticed a holster tucked away neatly under her arm.

“I ain't dodgin’ the question. I’m no friend of the Sons, considering I almost broke VC’s teeth in tonight.” She said, feeling like a dime dropper just the same.

 “You?” the Boss said, before laughing again. Shaundi offered up her hand for inspection, and sure enough; VC’s teeth graze was still there. “Damn, Kitten. Never seen a gal in a bow throw that kinda punch before.”

 “You believe her?” Pierce asked

“I don’t have any reason not to. Besides, we can’t just shoot every person who steps into our space just ‘cause. That would be chaos.”

 He grumbled but didn’t try to have her killed again which made her breathe a sigh of deep relief. Looks like she was gonna live to fight with her mother another day. The Boss took a long drink from her glass and then sat at the bar. Shaundi wasn’t sure how it made her feel; a little freaked out maybe?

 “What should I call you, if we’re going to be drinking buddies?”

 “What should I call you, kitten?”

 “Shaundi.”

 “Shaundi.” She repeated, testing it out. “That could work.”

 “And what should I call you?”  Behind them, her friends chuckle to themselves. Like there was a joke that she just wasn’t in on.

 “Kitten, you can call me whatever you like; as long as it’s not late for dinner.”

 “Your friend back there called you boss.”

 “That could work.” She said.

 “I take it you’re just going to keep calling me kitten.”

 “Does it bother you?” She asked, casually.

 “No, I was just wondering.” She’d been called all manner of pet names from her boyfriends before, but none of them had really been done with affection. She didn’t feel any malice in the words of the boss. If anything, she got the idea that she was perhaps flirting a little. Overall? Not unappreciated. Perhaps her night was going to improve after all.

 “Oh, good.” She said and smiled again. The movement distorts a scar that cuts into her top lip. Perhaps it was the Bennies, but she wanted to touch it.

 Before she can do something stupid, for example touching the face of a gang leader uninvited, a series of loud pops invaded their space. Shaundi was about to question what the hell was going on, but before she can, she’s pushed over the top of the bar. She landed on her back with a thump. She heard another loud clang and then the sound of glass shattering. Actually, there was a lot of glass shattering.

 “What the Hell is happening?” She demanded, as the Boss popped up over the bar with the gun from under her arm and popped off several shots in a row. Shaundi isn’t about to put herself in the line of fire by looking over the top of the bar but the thump of a body was not lost on her. Above them, bottles exploded, throwing glass and liquor everywhere.

 The boss ducked down behind the bar to reload her weapon with a clip produced from a pocket in her pants.

“What’s happening?!” She demanded. She gave her a slightly sideways smile and replied

“Looks like the Ronin ain’t too happy that me and the boys busted up their little poker game tonight.”

“Ain’t too happy? They’re trying to put you six feet under!”

“Yeah; trying is right.” She said, before popping back up and squeezed the trigger a few times in a row before ducking back down. A bullet had skidded across her left cheekbone and a trickle of blood was making its way down her face.

 “We gotta blow.” She said, seriously. “Looks like they’re only in the front. If we go out the back then we can get to my bike and scarper.”

“Me?”

“You wanna hang here and take your chances with the boys in yellow?”

 She had a good point. As the Boss crawled on her hands and knees to the end of the bar, Shaundi assumed the same position and followed after. Shaundi couldn’t help but notice the outline of her underwear on the back of her thighs. She probably shouldn’t have, but when someone else’s ass is in your face it’s hard to look anywhere else.

 Her felt glass on the ground under her skirt and was pretty sure that this one was going to be ruined. Shame; she liked it a lot. But it had also been a gift from VC, and then she probably wouldn’t miss it too much. If felt like they had to crawl a long way, but she suspected it was only a few steps. It just felt long because she was tearing up her hands and knees on broken glass. She had a few layers of petticoat to protect her knees at least; she had no idea what it was like for the boss who had only a thin layer of fabric for protection.

 They crawled past Walter who was shooting over the top of the bar and swearing at the other gang. She also heard the Boss’s friend yelling, both for her and at the people they were shooting. Someone was laughing and seemed to be enjoying himself. Walter’s back is to them. He didn’t notice them open the back door or crawl out, shutting it behind him.

 In fact, and she thanked her lucky stars for this at least, it didn’t seem anyone had. They both stood the Boss first and Shaundi second. Once they were up, she brushed glass shards off her bloody knees and used one hand to brush them out of her hair as well.  Her pants were cut up, and blood was soaked into the white fabric right up her leg. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like she was too badly injured. She swore under her breath in a language Shaundi didn’t speak but was probably Spanish.

 “I just had my hair set on Tuesday.” She grumbled, picking out one of the larger pieces with two fingers and discarding it. Shaundi did the same. Her torn up skirt was probably salvageable but the petticoat was done for. Her knees had a few scrapes but seemed to be pretty well unharmed. Most of the glass was sitting on top of her hair and the only way to get it out would be to let her hair down and brush it and there wasn’t going to be time to do that here was there? She followed her around the side of the building. They were pressed up against the wall, the Boss’s gun arm out in front of her. She could still hear the firefight going on.

 Leaning around the building, the boss seemed to take stock of the situation.

 “Shit.” She muttered.

 “What?” Shaundi asked, forgetting to be offended by the swearing.

 “What’re the Sons doing here?” She asked, turning to look at her.

 “As if I’d know.” She replied. The boss clicked her tongue and looked thoughtful for a minute. “I’m being honest.” She said, feeling like she had to justify herself. If the Boss took this in stride or was even thinking about her at all, she didn’t know. But she did speak again after a minute.

 “We gotta beat feet or we’ll spend tonight in the cooler.”

“Yeah?”

 “Can you run in those kicks?”  She could not. Shaundi replied by toeing off her low heeled shoes so that she was foot to pavement. She maybe should have repainted her toes last night, she thought idly as the Boss still seemed to be deep in thought.

 “We might just have to run for it.” She said, looking at her side on. The boss turned slightly to look at her. “On my count, head flat out towards that bike there.”

 “The purple one?”

 “Yeah. We’ll gas it outta here.”

 “What about your friends?”

“What about ‘em? Johnny’s probably having the time of his life and Pierce can handle it.”

 “Okay.” She said, wondering if it was wise to accept a ride from a strange gang leader in the night.

 They stood for what felt like forever but was probably more like a few minutes before the Boss brought her arm down fast. Guessing that was the signal, Shaundi took off. She must have been right because the Boss was right behind her. She tossed the gun as she ran, jumping over the bike and taking off. With nothing to hold on to, Shaundi was forced to grab her around the waist and hold on for dear life.

 She didn’t think she’d ever gone that fast in her entire life. The world whizzed by her at what felt like the speed of light. Behind them, she heard a pop and managed to move aside just in time to avoid getting shot. The bullet went over the Boss’s shoulder and she turned to see a particularly ambitious Ronin gaining on them.

 “Company!” She called, and the Boss glanced in her side mirrors and repeated her earlier swear.

 “I can’t shoot ‘n drive!” She shouted over the wind noise, “Grab my gun, I’ll direct you.”

 “Okay!” Shaundi shouted back and reached one hand under her cardigan looking for her gun. She found an empty holster on one side. She tried the other and find another empty holster.

 “There’s one in the back of my pants!”

 Shaundi untucked her shirt and reached down to grab the skin warmed weapon. A six-shooter, she noted. She also noted the lacy bite of the Boss’s panties she’s earlier admired. Now was not the time to be thinking about that, and if she could shake her head and not puke everywhere she would have.

 “Keep one arm around my waist or you’ll fly off!” The boss insisted as Shaundi started pulling away. “There’s a piece of metal on the front of the barrel, that’s a sight. Aim with it.”

 Shaundi raised the weapon, looked down the sight and missed completely.

 “Aim for the bike, not the man!” the Boss shouted next as she pulled around a corner so hard and so fast that Shaundi thought for sure they were going to touch the ground. She lifted the weapon when they hit the straight road again and aimed for the wheel of the bike. Holding her breath, she squeezed the trigger.

 The bullet hit the front of the bike, and suddenly, it went sideways, hitting a pole and throwing the driver.

 “Good work!” The Boss shouted as they turned another corner and rather than rejoice, Shaundi just held on for dear life. They sped around another two corners before slowing down to a reasonable speed. Shaundi felt herself exhale; then took a deep breath of air having not realized she’d stopped breathing for a moment there.

 Reaching out with one hand, the Boss flicked on the radio. They caught the tail end of ‘Don’t Love Me Like I’m Your Wife’ as it transitioned into a song called ‘Hangin’ on Baby’. Shame, she really liked Aisha.

 “That was one Hell of a shot.” She said as they rounded another corner, slowly this time. Seemed that in their speed chase they’d made it almost back to her house.

 “Thanks.” She said, “Do you think you could give me a lift to my place? It’s just around here.”

 “Sure.” She said as they drove through a red light. “Where is it?”

 “On the corner of Peach Street.”

 “Yeah, I can take you there. Used to know a girl who lived on Peach Street.” Long pause, “Wonder whatever happened to her.”

 “Probably still livin’ there.” She said, resting her cheek against the material of her cardigan. She smelled like chemical flowers and blood. She pulled up to the corner as the song began to wind down. Overhead, the street lights cast them in a warm yellow glow.

 “This one?” She asked, slowing to a crawl.

 “Yeah.” Shaundi agreed, and the bike came to a stop on the curb. She disembarked, and when she’d cleared the bike so did the Boss. She’d expected her to take off as soon as she could but instead, she followed Shaundi up the driveway and then up the path to her front door. They stopped, and for the first time in a while, made eye contact.

 A thin sheet of tacky blood sat against her left cheek, but she smiled and it was like it wasn’t there.

 “You lost your headband.” She said, gently. Shaundi reached up and touched the top of her head where she’d brushed away the glass earlier. No headband.

 “I didn’t notice.”  She’s been too busy trying not to die to be busy thinking about her headband, but it was a shame to lose that one; it was the only one she had that went with this dress. Her mother was going to be livid. The Boss undid the scarf around her neck, it was black, upon closer inspection, with a purple print on top. Tiny Fleur de Lis-es.

“There.”

 “Thanks.” She said, aware of a blush coming across her skin.  “Do you fancy a nightcap?”

 She rubbed one hand on the back of her neck before looking towards her bike.

 “Nah. I better make sure Pierce and Johnny aren’t belly up in a ditch somewhere. Can I get my gun back?”  Shaundi hadn’t even realized she was still holding it. She looked down, and now they weren’t going at a hundred miles an hour she could see that it was a revolver with a clear plastic handle. Inside was a well worn sepia photo of the woman and her friends, all smiling.

She offered it back, feeling like she’d already seen too much. As she tucked it back into her pants, Shaundi was sad to see her go.

 “If you ever want to be a fast woman, we’re always looking out for people who know something. You seem to have an in with the drug trade.”

 “A bit. Where can I find you?”

 “Oh, I have business cards.” She said, producing one from her left pocket. No name, just an address and a phone number in purple on a white card. “Think about it.”

 “Yeah.” She said, watching as she turned and walked away. From her bike, she waved goodbye. Shaundi waved back.

 Stepping inside, she heard her mother calling her.

 “Shaundi is that you?”

 “It’s me!” She confirmed.

 “Did you have a good night?”

 “I did. I really, really did.” She said, meaning it for the first time in a while.


End file.
